


and i must scream

by nights



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Horror, Kyoshi Island, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26911003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights/pseuds/nights
Summary: Toph’s halfway done with her noodles and Sokka’s finished his when they hear rapping on the door. Toph feels the man, bent over, and feels Katara rise to get it.“Who is it?” Katara calls lightly, but the man says nothing. He knocks more frantically, and Katara pulls open the door.“What the fuck?” Katara chokes out — Toph leaps to her feet,Katara never swears— and stumbles back, and the man slumps forward, knees hitting the ground. Toph can’t make out his features; she chalks it up to unfamiliarity, and the strange texture that comes from sensing through the house’s wooden floorboards.Who the hell is it? Why is Katara flipping out?Aang stands, too, holding Katara as she raises a hand to her mouth, and she sobs.---When the Gaang gets together one dark night on Kyoshi Island, they have to face off against an ancient threat.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), all relationships are background - Relationship
Comments: 15
Kudos: 87
Collections: Non-Ship Fics of AtLA





	and i must scream

**Author's Note:**

> ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS PLEASE READ ⚠️  
> Did you see the "Graphic Depictions of Violence" warning? I mean it.  
> Includes blood, gore, vomit, and swearing.
> 
> Happy Halloween! In honor of the spooky season, I tried my hand at writing horror. It's way more violent than most fic, so please read with caution. I'm really excited to post this, it's different from my other stuff. I hope you like it!
> 
> Title pilfered from "I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream", which is a sci-fi short story whose premise fits my subject matter, I think.

“Are they ready yet?” Aang whines. Toph feels him pout at Katara.

“Almost! Once Zuko gets back with that fire spice it’ll be ready to eat.”

“Can’t we just eat it now?”

“You could, but it’s not gonna be as good.”

The noodles already smell delicious, from what Toph can tell, but if there’s one thing she’ll wait for, it’s Katara’s cooking. She’ll never know how Katara is such a wizard in the kitchen; Toph’s hopeless, and accepted that a long time ago. Why put herself through hell learning how to cook when she can just laze around in Katara’s vicinity and mooch?

“I am quite literally drooling,” Sokka says, arm around Suki on the cushions. He lounges like he owns the place, when its actually Suki.

“You’re not _literally_ drooling,” Suki teases.

“Yes, I am.” Sokka lets a strand of saliva hang from his mouth.

Suki wrinkles her nose, pushing lightly at his cheek. “Ugh, Sokka, was that really necessary?”

As much as Toph enjoys their time together at Zuko’s — she’ll only admit it to Katara, but she enjoys the palace pampering — Suki’s is where they all feel most at home. The village is quiet, and peaceful, and Suki’s house is warm. It’s a perfect getaway, far from Zuko’s ministers and Aang’s endless to-do list, and it forces Sokka to put his plans down and just relax for a second. It’s cozy, when it’s raining; Toph can feel the soft tapping of raindrops on the ground outside, a pleasant background buzz.

Sokka complains that Zuko is taking too long; _he’s always been impatient. Gives me a run for my money._ Katara sighs, but even she admits that he’s been gone for a while.

“He’s fine,” Toph says, waving a hand. “We should just start without him. His fault for taking forever.”

Katara frowns, looking to the door, but ladles out six bowls of soup anyways, setting one aside for Zuko. _It’ll be cold by the time he gets here. Well, he’s a firebender, he can just heat it up himself,_ Toph thinks.

Toph’s halfway done with her noodles and Sokka’s finished his when they hear rapping on the door. Toph feels the man, bent over, and feels Katara rise to get it.

“Who is it?” Katara calls lightly, but the man says nothing. He knocks more frantically, and Katara pulls open the door.

“What the fuck?” Katara chokes out — Toph leaps to her feet, _Katara never swears_ — and stumbles back, and the man slumps forward, knees hitting the ground. Toph can’t make out his features; she chalks it up to unfamiliarity, and the strange texture that comes from sensing through the house’s wooden floorboards. _Who the hell is it? Why is Katara flipping out?_

Aang stands, too, holding Katara as she raises a hand to her mouth, and she sobs.

“He’s — he’s —”

The man is still silent, shaking his head, and Aang sucks in a breath, kneeling before him.

“Zuko…”

“Oh my god,” Suki yells, voice shaking, and Sokka curls around her protectively.

Something’s clearly wrong, but Toph can’t tell quite what. The man she feels must be Zuko, but he’s still silent, and he doesn’t _feel_ right, and Katara’s weeping. Toph can feel Aang shaking, even though he’s telling Zuko that’s everything’s going to be fine.

Toph strides over to them, hands on her hips. “What are you all blubbering about? It’s just Zuko.” She squats next to Zuko and Aang, feels Zuko’s hand grab at her knee. His palm is wet from the rain, and she feels him grab frantically at her wrists, wordless.

He lifts her palm to his face — _weird, Zuko never likes people touching his scar_ — so Toph lets her hand rest there carefully, only going where Zuko places it.

“Why are you making me —” Toph starts, and Aang tries to interrupt, but then her fingers ghost over where his nose should be and feels only a smooth expanse of skin.

She snatches her hand back, the hairs at the nape of her neck standing on end.

“What’s wrong with him?” she demands, turning to Aang.

“Koh.” His voice is as grim as Toph has ever heard it.

Katara’s pacing back and forth, hands folding over each other, and Zuko still hasn’t said a word. _What the hell is “Koh” supposed to mean?_ Toph reaches out again and splays her hand over Zuko’s face. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. _So that’s why he hasn’t said anything._ He’s trembling, soaking wet, and then turns his face — or, where his face used to be — towards the ground.

“It’s a spirit,” Aang says, standing. “I met Koh once, a long time ago. Before the siege in the north, I went into the spirit world to ask for help, and met Koh there. If he sees any emotion, he steals your face. He almost stole mine.” Aang took a breath. “Now he’s stolen Zuko’s.”

“But Zuko can’t even go into the spirit world!” Katara says, fists at her sides. “How could this happen?”

“I don’t know.” Aang moves across the room, wrapping a hand around his glider. “Koh must have crossed over, somehow. I didn’t think that could happen, but there’s no other explanation.” He squared his shoulders. “Zuko, I’m going to get your face back.”

“You’re going after it?” Katara asks, and Aang nods. “Then I’m coming with you.” She stomps up the stairs, and Aang follows her, protesting about _it’s not safe, Katara_. “You can’t stop me,” Toph hears Katara yell faintly, and then more arguing.

“A spirit,” Suki whispers, and Sokka finally shifts. Zuko’s still kneeling on the floor next to Toph, holding his head, and Sokka wraps his arms around Zuko’s shoulders.

“Listen, buddy. Can you still hear me?” Sokka asks, soft. Zuko nods. “Aang’s gonna go kick that spirit’s ass, and you’re gonna get your face back.” Zuko leans his forehead into Sokka’s shoulder. “For now, let’s get you into some dry clothes. Okay?”

Suki follows behind them nervously, and Zuko shivers as Sokka guides him to his room, and then Katara’s stomping down the stairs again.

“He can use you against me!” Aang says, a strained note to his voice.

“You think I can’t handle myself?” Katara snaps, and Aang groans a _no_. “There’s no way I’m going to let you go fight a _face-stealing spirit_ by yourself. I’m going.”

Aang sighs. “Okay. But you have to promise me that if I don’t make it, you’ll leave, and get everyone out of here.”

“Fine.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

Aang still doesn’t think it’s a good idea to have Katara with him, but she’s forging ahead whether he wants her to or not. Zuko had shaken his head when they asked if Koh was in town, at the shore, and only nodded when they asked if he was in the forest, so that’s what Aang and Katara were pushing through. Aang keeps his hand tight in Katara’s, not daring to let go. He knows she’s a strong fighter, and they’d been in countless forests before, but he needs to feel the warmth of her hand to know that they’re going to be okay.

They move uphill, hiking up one of the mountains in the north of the island. It’s foolhardy, maybe, definitely, to set out in the rain and in the night, but how were they supposed to sleep after seeing Zuko, curled in on himself, shaking in silence? And Aang isn’t going to let Katara go off on her own.

The trees grow sparse the higher they climb, the dense forest breaking into rocky scrub.

“The rain is finally letting up,” Aang comments. It had lightened into a soft drizzle, and Katara pulls her hood off, brushing a few wet strands of hair back from her face.

“Yeah. Ugh, where is it? We’ve been out here for hours. Zuko couldn’t have been _this_ far from town, he only needed to go a few houses over. Maybe we should turn back.”

Aang shrugs. “Sure. We can always come back in the morning.” _As long as I can get Katara home safe._

They turn downhill again, Katara leading the way, and then Aang stops. The air is heavy, tense, like it’s warping under the weight of something.

“Aang?” Katara turns back toward him, and Aang sees the shimmer of a giant insect in the forest behind her.

“No emotions, Katara,” Aang says, and Katara’s eyes flash with fear before she schools her face and Koh’s legs are curling hungrily around her shoulders.

“Avatar Aang,” Koh hisses, hind legs clacking and sending the scree beneath them rolling downhill. “I knew we would meet again.”

Koh’s great eye wore a face Aang had never seen before, an old man with an unkempt beard. The arms around his eye curl, flexing, hovering over Katara’s head. His long, insect-like body shifts, moving to assess Katara, and he laughs.

“Why thank you, Aang. Such a lovely face you’ve brought me.”

Katara sucks in a breath through her nose, but doesn’t flinch, not even when Koh leers over her. Aang moves, and Koh watches him step to Katara, clutching her hand in his. He squeezes it in a silent assurance.

“Is she the one you love? How foolish of you, Aang, to bring her along. I expected better from you — you know what the stakes are.”

“I’ve come to ask you for my friend’s face back.” Aang intones, forcing his voice to remain steady.

Koh rasps a laugh. “You think you can just ask nicely? I stole it, fair and square.” The old man’s face twists, raising a brow. “Which one of my new additions is it? Knowing the backstories of my faces… it makes them all the more _precious_.”

“Zuko. Black hair, a scar over his right eye.”

“His left,” Katara says flatly.

Koh chitters. “Ah, this one?” The eye blinks, and then Zuko’s staring down at them. “I do so adore the interesting ones. Most people have such _boring_ faces,” he complains, and then raises a leg to Zuko’s cheek, poking at the scar. “This one has history.”

“I’d like it back, please.” Aang’s hand is sweating in Katara’s.

“But it’s a good one.” Zuko’s face pouts, then twists into a snarl. “I think I’ll keep it.” His eyes light up. “Unless… you can provide an adequate replacement.” Koh’s leg reaches out to trace a scratch down Katara’s cheek.

She sucks in a breath, closes her eyes, but keeps her face expressionless. Aang can feel himself shaking, he can’t lose Katara — the thought of the monstrous spirit keeping her face for eternity makes him nauseous.

“Take mine,” Aang blurts, and Katara’s eyes flash to him.

“I won’t let you take him,” Katara says, and Koh laughs again.

“You think you can stop me? How cute. Hm, taking an Avatar’s face… that’s something we can work with.”

Aang takes a steadying breath, but then Katara’s whirling around, bending the water still soaking the earth into a torrent that sends Koh’s body smacking into the rocky mountainside. He hisses in pain, legs twitching, and Zuko’s face is nothing like Aang’s seen it before, even years ago: its brow is furrowed in hideous malice, eyes flashing.

“That’s how it’s going to be, then? Have it your way,” the spirit roars, and blows through another strike from Katara, legs grasping at her clothes.

Aang tries to snare Koh in a cage of bent rock, but Koh skitters out of the way, throwing Katara to the ground, and she grimaces as her body strikes the mountain.

Koh’s on her in an instant, crowing, Zuko’s face broad with glee, and Aang screams himself hoarse. He bends air, earth, water, fire at Koh, but it’s sloppy and distraught and Koh simply twitches out of the way, Katara clasped in his limbs.

Aang feels that rush, always exhilarating, that comes before the Avatar State. It washes over him, terrifying in the rage of all his past lives — he stares at his leg, numbly, somehow pinned to the ground by a great insect leg that has lanced clean through it. Aang struggles, groaning, but the searing pain is just enough to keep his past lives from helping him fully; it clogs his mind, no matter how hard he tries to focus on Katara, _Katara_ —

Aang cries out, pleading, but Koh continues as if Aang’s voice were merely the wind. Koh holds Katara’s body tight in his forelimbs, even as she thrashes, fighting against the arms that encircle his eye. They flicker back and forth, unspooling her face like a blanket with a loose thread, weaving it back into place in his eye. Aang wishes for a moment that he were deaf, so that he didn’t have to hear Katara scream, struggling in Koh’s grip, and then Aang realizes the only thing worse than her screams is her silence, when Koh unravels her mouth and she goes quiet.

He drops her to the ground, her body hitting the rock roughly, and Katara’s face grins at Aang.

“You should have taken my deal when you had the chance.”

Aang knows his face is plain with grief, and that’s all Koh needs to snatch him up, too. Aang twists in his grip to look down at Katara, her blank face turned up at the sky.

“I’m going to relish yours. The last airbender.” Aang looks up at Koh, into Katara’s face, the woman he loves looking down at him like a fresh kill. The spirit’s arms tickle Aang’s face, slick with Katara’s blood. “Think of it this way, Avatar,” the voice, terrible out of Katara’s lips, rattles, “At least you’ll have each other.”

Aang feels the arms pierce his skin, and then there’s nothing but an excruciating burn and Koh’s dry laughter, the world going dark, and Aang feeling his body hit the ground.

His limbs knock into Katara’s, and he grasps her, trying to speak, but as much as he wants to, he can’t say anything.

“Goodbye, Avatar,” Koh says, and then he’s gone.

Katara’s arms are around him, and she’s trembling, and Aang just holds her. He wants to weep, wants to scream, wants to tear Koh apart, but he can only hold onto Katara and gasp for air.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Sokka paces across the room, holding his chin in his fingers. _Aang has met Koh before, he’ll be fine. They’ll be fine._ Sokka couldn’t let himself think any differently, or he’d fall apart. They had to be fine, because Sokka couldn’t handle anything else.

They’d put Zuko to bed in the other room, tucking the blankets around him with soft assurances, and now Suki and Toph were curled up together in front of Sokka. None of them could fall asleep; they were too on-edge.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Toph says, and Sokka stops, glaring at her.

“Aang and Katara should be back by now,” Sokka snaps.

“Maybe they’re still looking. The forest is pretty big,” Suki offers.

“It’s not _that_ big!” Sokka can feel himself flying off the handle. After seeing Zuko, the thought of that happening to either of them… Sokka had never seen anything like it before.

“Staying up late isn’t going to help them. We should go out there,” Toph says, standing.

“No, if we get separated or Aang and Katara come back, and we’re not here…” Sokka muses, “No. No, we’re staying here with Zuko.”

“We have to do _something!_ ” Toph protests. She gestures wildly around. “We’re just sitting here like a bunch of scared old ladies, and they’re out there fighting an evil spirit!”

“We’ll — if they’re not back by morning, we’ll go after them,” Sokka says, curt.

Toph grumbles, but doesn’t leave; they try sleeping again, and even though Toph swears up and down that she’s not freaked out, _not like you two scaredy-cats_ , she pulls a sleeping pad into Sokka and Suki’s room and sleeps there.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Suki doesn’t know when she fell asleep, but she wakes with a throbbing head and in the dim light of the early morning to a commotion outside. Sokka stirs blearily beside her, and Toph sits up with the worst bedhead Suki’s ever seen.

“Wus goin’ on?” Toph murmurs, and Suki goes to the window and pulls up the blinds, peering down into the courtyard.

A small crowd — Suki recognizes a few fishermen up for their morning work — has gathered, yelling, stumbling back. She can see Aang’s yellow and orange robes, Katara’s blue dress, but they’re on the ground, disheveled, and Suki can barely see what’s going on through the movement of the villagers around them.

“It’s Katara and Aang,” Suki says, and Sokka leaps out of bed, darting out the door.

The two girls scramble after him, down the stairs and out into the street, pushing past the villagers that are beginning to scream and clamor. _What’s wrong with them? It’s the Avatar! How could this happen?_ The two of them are scraped up, like they’d fought an entire garden, and — Suki’s heart stops — faceless.

Sokka drops to the ground, clutching Katara to his chest, and Toph freezes. Suki belatedly registers blood spreading on Aang’s trousers. The villagers are beginning to panic, rushing out of their homes just to see them and scream. Suki can feel the situation spiraling, so she tears her eyes from her friends and turns to her people.

“Please remain calm, everyone.” She tries to keep her voice from shaking. “This is the work of a spirit. The Avatar will be fine, everyone will be fine, we’ll take care of this shortly —”

“An evil spirit!” someone yells, and then another person cries out, “Without the Avatar, we’re all doomed!” and then Suki really loses control.

People are moving, rushing back into their houses — one fisherman says that he’s casting off for good — and Sokka’s crying and rocking with Katara in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” Sokka says, choking on a sob, and holds Katara’s blank face in his hands. “I’ll kill that motherfucker and get your face back. I’ll get it back. Don’t worry.”

They lead Aang and Katara back into the house, and Zuko feels his way out into the main room to hug them tight. It’s so quiet, but for Sokka’s babbling, holding Katara tight and brokenly demanding that they get a healer for Aang as soon as possible. Suki gets a shoulder under Aang’s arm, helps him limp to the house and lays him out on a bed.

“Aang, buddy, we’re gonna get a healer for that leg, it’s gonna be fine,” Sokka says, voice thick. “I’m — it’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna be fine.”

Aang’s faceless head flops to the side, hand still curled white-knuckled around his glider. Toph gently eases it out of his hand, setting it on the floor, and kneels at his side, speechless.

Suki’s been in bad spots before, but never quite like this one. Still, she’s a commander, and she’s going to do what needs to be done.

“Sokka, you go get Katara cleaned up. Toph, stay with Aang, make sure he stays awake. I’m going to get Chikao, I’ll be back soon.”

Sokka disappears with Katara into the bathroom to wash off the forest, and Suki and Toph stare at each other for a breathless moment. Then, Suki darts out, heartbeat in her ears.

The healer dropped everything as soon as the word _Avatar_ was out of Suki’s lips. When Chikao cut open Aang’s trousers, he sucked in a breath. The wound was deep, _really_ deep, ragged around the edges, and dirty from being dragged through the forest all night.

“I have some alcohol here with me, but I’ll need plenty more.”

Toph slips out and is back in a flash, a bottle of clear liquor in hand. The healer pours it over the wound, and after a moment of deft cleaning, he pauses.

“Can you help me move the Avatar onto his side?” he says, voice thin.

Suki does, and her stomach rolls when she sees the exit wound. _It’s a miracle he hasn’t bled out._

The healer goes to work, and when Suki feels her gag reflex really kick into gear she races out, searching for the toilet, a sink, _anything_ — she grabs a vase in the nick of time, and her stomach empties itself.

Toph steps out of the room and shuts the door behind her, face drawn and pale. Suki wipes the corner of her mouth, taking a shuddering breath.

“We’ll figure something out,” Suki says, and even she doesn’t believe herself with the way her voice shakes.

“Aang’s the one that knows about all this spirit shit,” Toph mumbles. “And now he can’t say anything.”

“Well, he’s told us a little bit about it, right?” Suki’s trying hard, so hard, to keep them from despairing, even though she feels lightheaded and her limbs are trembling from the force with which her body hit the _abort_ button. _You’ve seen wounds before. Pull it together, Suki. Spirits, this vase is going to be a bitch to clean._

“Sure,” Toph mutters.

“Can you even kill a spirit?” Suki asks, and Toph shrugs.

“Yeah.”

Sokka appears, shutting the bathroom behind him, lips pressed into a firm line.

“You can kill a spirit. I watched a firebender do it, once.” He leans against the wall and slides down to sit on the floor. “When they’re in our world, they’re just as mortal as we are.”

Suki kneels next to him, remembering Yue, and touches his shoulder lightly. He sighs.

“Do we even want to kill it? Maybe if we kill it, we’ll never be able to get their faces back,” Sokka groans, throwing his arms up. “I wish I had a bunch of past lives to ask, like Aang.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Toph notes. “Aang’s the bridge between people and the spirits, or whatever. He’s the expert on all that spirit-y mumbo jumbo, and if he couldn’t figure out how to get that spirit to give a face back, I don’t think we’re gonna have much more success.”

Sokka leans his head against Suki’s shoulder, and she wraps a hand around the back of his head, a limp attempt at comfort.

Toph smacks her fist into her palm. “We’ve gotta kill it. At the very least, to stop it from stealing the face of anyone else.”

Against the fabric of her shirt, Sokka huffs, and then looks up. His brow is tense, and his shoulders are set, and his eyes search her face.

“Alright. We’ll have to prepare, but tomorrow, we go out into the forest and give that spirit all we’ve got.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

Sokka jolts awake, unsure if he dreamed the creaking of the house around them, and his hand flies to grab under the pillow for his club’s hilt. It took him forever to get to sleep in the first place, starting at every whisper in the dark, clutching Suki’s hand. He freezes for a moment, hand still around that hilt, listening.

It’s nothing.

Suki’s still next to him, breathing softly in her sleep. Sokka doesn’t want to disturb her; she was just as on edge as he was. _She deserves to get a good night’s rest, after everything that’s happened._ Sokka tries to go back to sleep, but each time his eyelids slide closed, Katara’s blank, eyeless face swims before him.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

The voice is deep, rasping, sinking into an inhuman chitter at the end. Sokka’s wide awake again, yanking his club out, and the voice laughs.

“Careful, Sokka. You wouldn’t want to end up like your poor sister.”

Sokka doesn’t dare look around. He stays still, stares at the ceiling, and forces his face to stay neutral, expressionless. _I’m no use to Katara or Aang without a face._ He prays that Suki doesn’t wake up.

Aang’s descriptions hadn’t prepared Sokka for seeing the spirit in front of him. There’s the clatter of its legs on the hardwood floor, and then Koh is clawing at the ceiling, his segmented carapace catching the moonlight. It wears a strange face, blue and tusked. Sokka’s stomach clenches, and he bites the inside of his cheek. _No expressions._

“She was so easy. It didn’t take much to steal her face.” Koh’s voice rattles, dry and smug. “She was so… full of life.”

The spirit’s eye blinks, and then Katara is staring down at him, his sister’s familiar eyes perfectly rendered above him. Her hair — _she always had such beautiful hair_ — hangs down over Sokka, tickling his cheeks. He tries desperately to focus on keeping his breathing steady, even as tears prickle at his eyes. Suki still sleeps, and Sokka hopes desperately that she’ll stay that way, safe.

“Just like that Fire Lord.” Koh blinks again, and Zuko’s face smiles over him, brow furrowed in a malicious grin. “Stealing this one was child’s play.”

The spirit leans closer, so close Sokka can see the flare of Zuko’s nostrils, teeth bared. A leg curls down, the sharp tip brushing Sokka’s cheek.

“You’re better at this than they were. Mm, but not good enough.”

Sokka takes a deep breath, and speaks.

“I’ll kill you,” he says, more to himself than to Koh.

“A lovely dream, for you. Sokka, Sokka, Sokka.” The spirit’s legs flutter, twitching. “What makes you think you can save them?”

Koh blinks, and Aang’s face appears. It’s bizarre, seeing his friend’s face contorted into that laugh, the curl of his lip into a mocking snarl. The spirit shifts, assessing Sokka from different angles.

“Yours will be a fine addition to my collection. Strong jaw,” it rasps, a vile insect leg touching the bottom of Sokka’s chin. Sokka jerks his face to the side, closing his eyes to focus on keeping himself expressionless.

“Careful. You almost lost it there.” Sokka looks back at Koh, and Aang grins at him, nose wrinkling in a perverse pleasure.

“I’ll get them back. I’ll kill you and I’ll get them back,” Sokka repeats, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. His heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat, and his body’s covered in a film of cold sweat. _It can’t win. I’ll get them back, I have to._

“It’s sweet, really, how you think you can save them,” Koh wheedles. “You think you can slay what _two_ Avatars have failed to? How conceited!” The spirit cries out in delight, Aang’s face laughing, cruel.

It blinks again, and Suki looks down at him.

Sokka’s stomach roils, he feels like he’s going to throw up. _No, no, no —_ Sokka flips over, throttling Suki’s shoulder, and she shifts in bed sleepily. She turns, hand fluttering to her blank face, silent, mouthless. Her hands clutch, first at the smooth skin where her face used to be, then blindly at Sokka, desperate and quiet.

Sokka can’t help it, his tears burn freely down his cheeks, and he sobs, and Koh steals his face.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Toph’s feet pound on the floorboards. She fears the worst — Sokka’s yelling, a strained scream that Toph had never heard from him before, and something’s curled around him — and bursts through their bedroom door, recoiling when she finally focuses enough to discern the intruder.

It takes a moment, because the wooden frame of the house vibrates in a way different from earth, it makes the image of the spirit grainy and shivery, but it works all the same. The spirit’s huge, a long insect like a millipede, its segmented legs tapping on the ceiling and floor and rattling Toph’s mental image. It’s got a body clutched before it — _That has to be Sokka, it has Sokka_ — because Sokka’s still yelling, and then he goes silent and his body falls, bouncing on the bed in a soft blur.

“Another,” the spirit cries with glee, body turning towards her.

Toph barely has a moment to think _expressionless, I have to be expressionless_ , before its rushing toward her.

“Too late,” it teases, and then she feels disgusting legs close around her. Toph struggles, frantically casting around for something to bend, but the house is made of wood, and the legs have her in a vise grip.

It’s breath is hot on her face when it hisses, “Your friends are all mine, and there’s no one to save you. My collection has never been bigger.”

She can’t see anything, suspended from the floor; the world is black and silent, but for her own cries, as the spirit tears her face away. It’s searing, the feeling of her flesh being shorn and then knit over, leaving nothing in its wake, and then Toph falls silent when her mouth is torn away, too.

She hears the door bang open again, and the spirit laughs.

“Oh, you stupid little waterbender,” it cackles. “What were you going to do? _Protect them?_ You’re useless. I’ll make far better use of these faces than you mortals ever could.”

It drops her, and Toph’s shoulder-blades slam into the floorboards roughly. She tries to groan, but nothing comes out, and she breathes through the unnerving feeling of her lungs expanding without any air rushing through her nose. She tries to cuss at the spirit, but she has no lips with which to form the words. _Fucker. It’s lucky I don’t have anything to bend with._

Koh curls around her, arms tapping over the fresh, tender skin where her face used to be.

“I’ll be taking my leave of you, now. Do send the Avatar my way again; when they have a new face for me.”

It’s gone, to who knows where, and there’s a frozen moment before Katara is feeling out for Toph and holding her. She feels familiar, hands soft on her arm; Toph’s face still stings, and she feels a little suffocated, but mostly she’s fine. The longer she sits, the more her breathing calms, and she realizes, dazed, that she can still see.

Koh might have taken her face, but she still has her bending. She can still feel the shapes of her friends through the frame of the house, she can still hear the chirping of the night outside. She wishes she could speak, let them know, but when she tries to move her mouth she only feels a disturbing pull of skin, like it’s been stitched right over her maw. A shiver travels up her spine; it feels _wrong_ , the yank when she tries to move her mouth or blink her eyes.

She can’t speak, no sound comes out when she tries to grunt to Katara, so she has to just lay a comforting hand on Katara’s shoulder.

Then, Toph stands, and follows Koh out into the night.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Toph wants to sigh in relief, even though she can’t. The wood of the house made every image shiver, but outside with her feet on the ground, everything is thrown into sharp relief, just the way she’s used to.

 _Focus,_ Toph thinks. _It feels wrong, but I can still breathe. I can still hear, I can still see. That fucker can’t hide from me._ She flexes her toes in the comforting feel of dirt, and shifts, stomping her foot into the ground and concentrating on the reverberation. _It can’t be far._

She waits, tense… _There._ It’s skittering back toward the forest, unnaturally fast through the streets of the village. She bends the earth under her feet, and races after it.

They’re on the outskirts of the town when Toph catches up, within striking distance, and then Toph throws her elbow forward and sends a ridge of earth rolling up. It catches the spirit off-guard, hitting its underbelly and sending it tumbling to the side.

It lets out a screech, then a growl, its head darting to look at her. Toph wants to smile.

“You,” it spits, swaying like a serpent. “How?”

_I’m the greatest earthbender alive, you disgusting bug._

She moves her foot back, shifts her weight, and sends spikes of rock shooting up from underneath. Koh darts out of the way — _quick, that motherfucker_ — and lunges toward her, but Toph sends the earth underneath them spinning like a disc, and the spirit is thrown to the side.

“Foolish girl. You’ve already lost. Didn’t you notice? I already have your face.” Its voice rattles, rough like gravel.

 _I’ll tear you apart, if I have to._ She bends again, punching up a volley of spiked projectiles, sending them soaring toward the spirit, but it darts out of the way again. _Shit, would you stay still so that I can kill you?_

“It’ll be easier for you if you just let it go,” Koh rasps, legs clattering on the ground as it races toward her. “Your face, your friends faces are gone forever. Why fight it?”

_If you say that, you don’t know me very well._

“You’ve lost,” it says, clutching her in its legs again. But this time, there’s nothing for Koh to do; he’s already stolen her face. There’s nothing more he can take. The spirit simply looms over her, breath on her smooth, faceless skin.

She struggles, the sharp legs contracting, and manages to jerk her knee up one last time. The earth obeys, and skewers the spirit from belly to back. The hard outer shell crunches, and Koh shrieks, legs trembling, and then it goes limp and Toph can finally find her feet again.

Her limbs are weak with relief. _It’s dead, it’s dead. I’m fine, and it’s dead._ She reaches out at the spirit, touching its dead body gingerly. She presses a hand to that strange eye, feels the curves of her own face. _I’ll be taking this back, thank you very much._

Toph pats her hands around, fingers touching the slick edges of those monstrous eyelids, and realizes there’s a rim there that she can slip her fingers under. It’s revolting, the slime underneath, but she carefully pulls her face free, stumbling back from the spirit’s carcass. She isn’t sure what to do next; how did it steal her face in the first place? Toph pauses, turns the face around, then presses the backside to her smooth skin.

 _Eurgh. This is stupid._ It’s not doing anything; it just feels slimy and weird, but then her face starts tingling, then burning, and then Toph can finally hear herself again, groaning at the pain.

“Fuck.” She can breathe fully again, sweet, unobstructed air in her nostrils. She licks her lips — _her_ lips — and rolls her shoulders. “Finally. Now, where are you hiding the rest of them?”

Toph wrinkles her nose — with her nose back, she can smell the acrid stench of the spirit’s insides melting out — and touches her fingers to where her face used to be. There’s another there, coated in slime, and Toph gags.

“Why did this spirit have to be so _disgusting?_ ” she gripes, pulling the face out, wiping some slime off, feeling for any recognizable features. She sets it on the ground, so that she can get a better look, and focuses: it’s Sokka’s.

“Blech.” Toph breathes, bracing herself against the smell, and pulls the rest of them out, one by one, checking them carefully.

When they’re laid out before her, and she’s made double, triple sure she has the right ones, she gathers the slippery, limp faces in her arms, and walks home.

“Ugh. I guess I have to do everything myself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've never written scary stuff before, so any feedback re: pacing and tension is more than welcome.


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